Logs:Patient Preparation
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| RL Date: 19 May, 2015 |
| Who: Casseny, Jemizen |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jemizen plays patient while Casseny patiently demonstrates for a couple weyrbrats. |
| Where: Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 11, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clouds make the skies leaden and gray, but no rain falls. A cool breeze often blows. |
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>---< Infirmary, Fort Weyr >-------------------------------------------------<
The walls of this oval cavern have been smoothed and white-washed, which
reflect their regular cleaning in the way they gleam subtly on any given
day. Cots line the walls and stand in aisles towards the back of the
cavern, simple curtains of white cotton hung to provide some measure of
privacy to any human patients that they sit ready to serve. At the far end
of the cavern, a short passageway is blocked off by a heavier curtain that
leads into the central hub for the dragon infirmary.
Supplies are stored in various drawers and glass-fronted cabinets that
display a myriad of the most commonly used items. A discreet door off to
the side provides access to the stillroom where more sensitive items are
also kept. A large sink with functional plumbing -- including hot and cold
taps -- is located toward the southernmost corner. Three healers crowded around one person bodes unwell in an infirmary-- but the dire illusion this afternoon is broken by details. Two of the company are not actually healers; a boy and a girl, they're pre-adolescent Weyr residents, and they're huddled in front of a cot not occupied by a beleaguered patient but a Southern volunteer. Between them, Casseny uses two fingers to steady the bottom of Jemizen's right arm while her other deftly demonstrates wrapping him to the elbow with a stiff gauze that restricts movement but breathes. Her long fingers are quick but maintain a gentleness despite a matter-of-fact bustle. Once in a while, she brushes him with the back of a hand as she secures the wrapping. The two children watch the demonstration raptly, as it will soon be their turns. Off to the side, on a little rolling shelf on Jem's left side, is a plate of food, barely touched in a blatant disregard for the lunch hour. Jemizen was hard at work--honest!--in the lower caverns when approached to volunteer for healer demonstrations. He was quick to agree, since it sounded like he would be able to sit around without getting yelled at. So sit around Jem does, plopped down on the cot in the infirmy, with his legs stretched out to the side of the young demonstration-watchers. Jem leans back on his left arm with lackadaisical ease as he watches the gauze wrap 'round and 'round his other arm. He half-turns to flash a smile at the children, noting brightly, "I thought about being a healer when I was your age." And then he found out how much work was actually involved. Being a test subject is much easier. For now. Casseny's eyes lift to Jemizen without a hitch in her work along his arm. They're cramming their short lesson in between others' studies and her apprentice duties, but a lingering impression suggests she'd be this quiet and efficient nonetheless. Killian curls an eager hand into the cot's tucked sheets, blinking one eye a little too heavily as he listens to Jemizen as if blinded by that smile. He's been oddly jumpy, a flush to his young cheeks, since picking the Southern volunteer out of the crowd. "But-- but you changed your mind," he points out, fighting disappointment with a lilting question note at the end. His feminine peer, Astea, rolls her eyes, barking loudly, "Not me. I'm gonna be a dragonrider. But you have to know this stuff if you're going to rescue holders." Killian shoots her a look, but it's Casseny that drops one hand from Jemizen to tap the girl under the chin: "Watch." The apprentice's overly blue eyes jump to catch Jemizen's with a yet unavailable instruction. Jemizen sits up straighter and waves his free hand at little Killian with practiced nonchalance. "I wanted to be a lot of things when I was your age. None of them suited me." He finishes the statement with a one-shouldered shrug. This is as self-aware as he gets, apparently. Astea's announcement is answered with raised eyebrows and a low, impressed whistle. "A fine aspiration, that. You'd make my da' proud, certainly." He catches Casseny's gaze and quickly schools the levity out of his expression. "This is an important skill for dragonriders and healers to learn." He announces to the little ones with a comical amount of gravitas. Killian struggles to know how to process that answer with enough satisfaction, especially in the wake of Astea receiving such praise. To Jemizen's newfound weight, Casseny's eyes shift to a highly difficult to find but present amusement. "And those in-between," she remarks coolly. Astea nods, lets it go a second, then remembers to fill Jemizen in: "Ully got hurt in the storm," stupid Ully her voice clearly enunciates without the words. "We're gonna know what to do if it happens again," adds Killian, somewhat recovered. It's a proactivity charmingly clashing with Jemizen's-- whatever it is Jemizen does. Finishing up, Casseny shows a neat way to tuck in the remaining gauze, lifts Jem's arm to show all sides, with a few other comments before it's all diligently undone and the gauze handed to Killian. With awkward, stuttering movements, Killian disguises what would otherwise be a fine enough skill for the task. He's quite distracted by something else. A couple seconds of this and Casseny interjects softly, prompting their volunteer, "Your father's a rider." Jemizen nods sagely along with Casseny's words. "Yes, everyone should be able to do this." Not that Jem has been paying attention and would be able to practice the skill being taught. Brows furrow as he frowns in confusion at Astea. "Who's Ully?" His gaze flickers over to Casseny as he follows the question up with another one: "Is Ully okay?" But his concern is short-lived thanks to Killian's admirable proactivity. He smiles at the boy, amused by the enthusiasm Killian shows that Jem rather notably lacks. "There's a good lad." That recently-ungauzed arm is offered cheerily enough, and Jem grins at the healer, nodding. "Aye. You have the honor of treating the wounds of the only son of N'jem of Souther Weyr." He gives his arm a little wiggle in an effort to spur Killian on. "Ully's-- " both children glance at each other, unable to comprehend how to describe something that's been natural to them all their lives, "... Ully." Duh. Come on, Jem. Focus up! Casseny's eyes narrow but soften, lightly upturned lips as she delivers a discreet nod letting Jem know that the matter of Ully is not one deserving of dramatic concern; yeah, he's fine. He was always going to be fine. Being complimented along with the interest in Jemizen's answer help Killian stop focusing on his physical troubles. His hands become less shaky. Casseny's lips open for a soft ahh at the reveal of the reportedly respectable lineage. Something she might've said gets interrupted when Killian finds the confidence to hold Jem's arm down to try and stop the shaking, "Please, sir," he puts on a voice, and airs to match, "You will exas-ba-bate the problem." Astea flexes impatiently, too graceless to hide it: "Why is it an honor?" She lays her chest against the cot and stretches her legs out behind her, "I don't know a N'jem. He's not in my books." A look at Casseny would reveal that she's piqued, watchfully interested in hearing an answer. Jemizen quirks one eyebrow at the children's explanation. He catches Casseny's nod and returns it with a half-grin. "Well, I'm sure Ully will be fine with you lot to take care of..." Him? Her? It? "...Ully." Killian's reprimand gets another grin, and Jem nods slowly. "Yes, sir." He holds his arm out stiffly, holding it as still as he can, until Astea's remark elicits a sharp bark of laughter that causes him to dissolve into giggles that make is arm shake harder yet. "Don't let him hear that." He warns Astea, trying to sound grave but it's difficult to do in the midst of giggles. He stops shaking with laughter after a minute, releasing a heavy breath and wiping a tear out of one eye. "I don't suppose northerners write much about blueriders." One last giggle escapes before he points out, "Not that southerners do." A throat-clearing announces that he's ready to get back to work, though, re-offering his arm to little Killian. "Sorry about that, sir. I will endeavor to be a better patient in the future." Laughter's not so common in an infirmary and the kids shoot a look at Casseny to be sure it's allowed. Astea's face struggles, wondering if she should be offended even as she snorts with glee at Jemizen's behavior-- and how much it messes up Killian's nice tuck. All of a serious fifteen turns, Casseny's lips straighten into a stern line; what thoughtfulness falls upon her looks also severe as she measures the seated patient. "You've messed it up," she sighs sharply. With a swift drop, she crouches, swiping up a basket from beneath the cot. Rising with it, quick fingers pull out a second roll of gauze. It's offered to Astea with a lightly deliberate, "The other arm. He's gone and wrenched it, too, hasn't he." Astea snatches up the gauze and Jem's arm with equal fervor, yanking him towards her. Evident from the very first lay of bandage: she's far too heavy-handed. Yet Casseny, hands folded gently in front of her, seems unmotivated to correct her. Instead, she inquires blithely, "And do southern blueriders endeavor to be written about?" Jemizen works hard at remaining still, but he's grinning even as he apologizes to Casseny and her two little students. "Sorry." Jem is easily yanked about my Astea--clearly he has underestimated the little girl's strength. He makes a face that isn't quite a wince as he is manhandled and gauzed, but what sort of teenage boy could possibly admit aloud to being harmed by the overeager ministrations of a small child? Despite looking vaguely uncomfortable, Jem grins again as he notes to Casseny, "N'jem probably does." Even though her ruse of mischief has been revealed behind the sternness, Casseny's face maintains a certain cool distance-- always, she seems partially in her own perceptions. One of them has her reaching out a hand before too long, laying a couple of soothing fingers on Astea's. The girl looks up; a wordless exchange: Casseny's mouth tucks out and in, Astea's pouts out. But the ministrations ease, and she becomes so careful as to nearly be mocking the process. Complacent, Casseny eases her weight to her left to check on Killian's progress fixing what Jemizen set to ruins. She reaches out and corrects a couple of the lines. Her touch, tracing Jemizen again for the first time since her demonstration, is gentle and confident in contrast. "I see," is what is heard, but there seem to be so many other words there. |
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